Drusilla Tempest, The Duchess of Timberhall, finds herself widowed right after marrying her much-older husband. After her mourning period finishes, she is called to royal duty, carrying out her obliged engagements as one of the only members left of...
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I observe and remain silent - Queen Elizabeth I ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn't waste time getting back to the castle, never breaking my jog as I made my way through the house, gasping and panting by the time I burst into my royal apartments. I didn't slow down as I walked through my bedroom to the enormous walk-in for my suitcase.
I was already going through a mental checklist in my head of things I needed to bring to be presentable at the palace if I was on royal business for a few days. Makeup, toiletries, hair and skin care. Those things went with me everywhere. If I was in the city of Keridge, I would stay in the grand townhouse of my late husband, Timberhall House. I had stayed there after the honeymoon while waiting for the royal funeral before leaving for the countryside. I left lots of clothes, shoes, bags and accessories there.
A swift knock came from my bedroom door. "Your Grace? Are you alright?" Marco's concerned voice was distant and muffled. He must've heard me pounding through the halls. "Has something happened?"
Waiting for my racing heart to slow down and wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, I trudged out of the closet and across my bedroom to open the door.
I pulled open the heavy, thick door, my words coming out in little puffs. "The king called me. I need to go see him for an emergency meeting at Yalford Palace this afternoon."
Marco stuck his chin out, his eyes widening. "The king? Today?"
"Yes," I said, turning to head back to my walk-in, "I need to pack and get out of here as quickly as I can."
He followed me. "Well, in that case you need to go shower and I'll get a bag made up for you in the meantime and call a driver to take you to Yalford Palace."
A swell of relief rolled through me at Marco's decisive but gentle tone. He was always trying to make things less stressful for me.
"Thank you. I don't want a driver though, Marco. I'll take my Mercedes and drive there myself. It's a nice day."
Marco frowned. "Would you like me to come with you, Your Grace?"
I shook my head, usually finding his overprotectiveness amusing and endearing, but under the circumstances I didn't have time to humor him.
"No, that won't be necessary. It'll be a nice drive. I'll be alright." Intent on being as efficient as possible, I headed for the master bathroom that was off the small hallway adjoining my bedroom.
It was a beautiful bathroom, with leather pressed and gilded green flowered wallpaper, a big circular antique mirror, and a huge porcelain clawfoot tub. I didn't bother noticing the tranquility of it this time, jumping in the tub and turning on the big showerhead faucet that hung overhead.
Truly surprising myself with my speed, I showered, washed and brushed my hair, then put it up in curlers to dry during the drive. I applied enough makeup to look professional and threw on a navy pleated midi dress with long sleeves from Saks Fifth Avenue and a pair of matching Jimmy Choos. Within the hour of getting the phone call from the king, my suitcase was packed in the trunk of my black, gleaming Mercedes and Marco was shutting my driver's door as I shifted and got comfortable behind the wheel.
